


Volatile

by alterai



Series: Convergence [1]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series, The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Crossover, Dark, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 02:05:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alterai/pseuds/alterai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the Consortium hard on his heels, Alex flees to Hong Kong in a desperate bid to shake them off. But he's not as safe there as he thought. A certain crime lord has his eyes on the assassin, and Alex is about to to become a wanted man on both continents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Volatile

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kanld](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=kanld).



“Hold. What business do you have here, foreigner?”

Krycek stopped short at the entrance to the Hong Kong mafia boss’s underground lair and sighed, sweeping his hand through his hair in annoyance.

“I’m going to see Feilong. He knows I’m coming.”

The dark-suited man standing guard at the door snorted, “Of course. Who isn’t.” he nodded to the younger man beside him, who turned and disappeared inside the residence.

Krycek tensed when the Cantonese pulled out his gun and clicked off the safety, leveling it at his chest.

“Turn around, face the wall. Lock your fingers behind your head.”

Gritting his teeth, Krycek slowly turned around and complied. _Fuck! This was a stupid idea. Why was he here again? He should’ve run, scurried away as a rat would with a big cat snapping its jaws after it, as soon as Feilong had set his sights on him._

The guard patted him down, checking for concealed weapons, the barrel of his gun digging intentionally painfully into the small of his back. He twitched when those searching fingers lingered a little too long while brushing over his crotch. Krycek snarled a warning at the man and got a vicious jab in the ribs for his trouble.

A short while later the other returned. He cocked his head at Krycek, indicating that he was to go in. Standing aside to let Krycek pass, he sneered and made a grab at the passing figure. Krycek caught the hand snaking out and twisted it in a vicious move, his mouth set in a grim line. There was the unmistakable sound of crunching bone before he let go, letting his unfortunate victim collapse onto the floor, face contorted in agony and fury. Krycek ignored the unintelligible expletives shouted at his retreating back as well as the gun that must still be trained on him – the lug wouldn’t shoot, wouldn’t want to mess up Feilong’s _precious_ merchandise. Because that’s what he was now, wasn’t he? Something bought and paid for. Alex shook his head in frustration and continued his advance into the dragon’s lair.

Pausing before those elegant double doors at the entrance to Feilong’s private rooms, he shuddered, whether from anticipation or dread, he really couldn’t say. Lifting his hand, Alex poised to knock but at the last moment let his hand drift to rest on the door, fingers absently caressing the hard, unyielding wood. He leaned forward, rested his forehead against the cool mahogany doorframe and took a deep breath, inhaling the faint aroma of citrus and spice, a sharp, intoxicating scent that was Feilong’s own.

Alex’s breath hitched in his throat and he didn’t know whether to laugh or sob. _Down to this…_

No, it wasn’t as if he had a choice. When it comes down to it, he would, and he has had to, whore himself out to strangers for the means to stay alive just one more fucking day and especially now, with the Consortium’s considerable resources turned against him, he couldn’t afford to make an enemy of the powerful Baishe leader. It would be laughable to think that he could stay alive for any length of time with both the Consortium thugs and the Hong Kong mafia after him. Feilong offered money and protection, or a brutal alternative that Krycek had no intention of facing.

After all, survival was the name of the game, and Feilong was no stranger. Not anymore.

Unable to put it off any longer he grasped the elegant brass handles of the door and turned, pushing it open to step quietly into the room.

Feilong was standing at the paneled windows of the room, his back towards Krycek, who closed the door behind him with a soft click. Pale iridescent light pouring in from outside the window illuminated the tastefully decorated room and highlighted the figure standing by the glass. Krycek found his eyes helplessly and compellingly drawn to the one who held so much over his head. No matter how much he might have despised the man or dreaded this meeting, it was hard not to appreciate the still beauty of the moonlight-illuminated features. Feilong’s long ebony hair was swept back to cascade down around his shoulders, accentuating the embroidered, deep crimson changshan he wore. All power and feline grace.

The crime lord angled his head as he heard the assassin enter, and dark eyes, thoughtful and intense, met twin pools of molten emerald as the two stared at each other wordless and unmoving across the darkened expanse of the room.

“Krycek.” Feilong finally breathed, his low and smoky voice barely above a whisper. His prize was here, and nothing was going to keep him from claiming the object of his desire. Memories surfaced of the younger man’s lithe body twisting underneath his, those soft silken strands of hair sliding through his fingers, the unwilling moans of pleasure and pain coaxed from that perfectly shaped mouth, and Feilong’s lips curved into the slow smile of a predator.

Krycek did not miss the dark lust that suddenly flared in those hunter’s eyes when Feilong abruptly turned and stalked purposefully towards him. Swallowing hard, he forced his frozen limbs to move and backed up, one hesitant step at a time, until further retreat was solidly blocked by the wall behind him, and then all he could do was watch Feilong’s relentless advance knowing that there was nothing stopping the other man having his way with him.

Feilong easily closed the distance between them, pressing in hard against Krycek’s tension-coiled body to pin him unresisting against the wall, strong hands pushing him back and grinding his back into the wall.

Keeping one hand in a tight, almost bruising hold around Krycek’s biceps, Feilong released his other raised his other hand and brought it to Alex’s face, trailing a long finger along the other’s jawline, enjoying the flicker of unease that played across the startling green eyes. The Russian’s lips were slightly parted and he was breathing heavily.

He leaned in close and brushed his lips lightly along the tip of Alex’s ear. “Did you miss me?” Feilong murmured, and smiled in pleasure at the answering shiver that passed through the body framed in his arms.

Alex tried to squirm away from the warm breath tickling his ear, but he had nowhere to go, caught as he was in the dragon's lethal talons that could tear him apart if he gave him any cause to. _Resist or Serve._ Right now he did not have the means to resist. So Krycek capitulated, gave up any semblance of control he had of the situation, tipping his head back and baring his throat to the other’s ministrations. He could feel Feilong's cool smirk against his heated skin – no doubt the Baishe leader was pleased with this unexpected show of submission.

Chuckling deeply, Feilong bent his head to the proffered throat and nipped lightly at the pulsing jugular, sharp white teeth closing on the exposed expense of skin, and Krycek had to bite his lips to keep back a moan. He doesn't know what to think anymore. Was it still a necessity of survival that kept drawing him back to this man?

When Feilong drew his head back Alex almost groaned at the loss of contact, at the feel of the long sleek hair that left an impalpable trail across his skin, but Feilong was already turning away, padding softly across the room towards the lavish, dark satin-sheeted King-sized bed.

_All the better for fucking in,_ Krycek’s mind supplied helpfully and he scowled inwardly, even as his hooded gaze followed Feilong’s retreating back, watching the Baishe Leader undo the fastenings of his changshan and letting it slip off his shoulders to pile loosely on the floor. He couldn’t help his sharp intake of breath at the sight of Feilong’s lean, muscular figure in all its unclothed glory. The man’s beauty was simply ethereal.

His own jeans starting to feel uncomfortably tight, Krycek shifted forward off the wall with a little push, shrugged off his leather jacket and threw it over the back of a chair, all the while keeping a wary eye on Feilong who had reached the bed by now and was sprawled lazily against the ornate, carved headboard, one arm on a raised knee and the other leg draped provocatively over the edge of the bed.

He undressed slowly. The shirt came off next, was tossed to the side, as were his shoes, socks, and jeans, thumbs hooked over the waistband of his black silk boxers, a brief hesitation, and then those were finally tugged off as well.

Feilong, smirking, raised a hand and beckoned, then pointed to a spot on the floor near his foot. Krycek knew what it was Feilong wanted, knew he had no choice, that realistically this shouldn’t be harder than the other times he’d submitted, but it didn’t erase the bitter tang of defeat he tasted at the back of his throat every time.

With a resigned sign, Krycek approached Feilong and dropped to his knees beside the bed, head bowed so that he could stare resolutely at the floor. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, meet Feilong’s gaze, though the back of his neck felt scorched Feilong’s intense scrutiny.

It was the worst, knowing that the other could make him _feel,_ and with such intensity, when all he wanted to do was lock himself away behind an emotionless wall of self-preservation and let the numbness wash over him as a barricade against the pain and guilt within him.

Sudden movement jerked him out of his thoughts to see that Feilong has slid his leg forward to nestle snugly against Krycek’s groin, brushing against his arousal and making him stifle a gasp. Krycek’s cheeks flamed at his body’s traitorous reactions, but before he could attempt to bring himself under control, another nudge sent his cock throbbing again. Feilong was reminding him to get started.

Shifting slightly to oblige, Alex leaned in and scattered soft kisses along Feilong’s inner thigh, wincing as his cock scraped over the long, powerful leg wedged between his. Slowly he worked his way up towards Feilong’s impressive member which had so far remained at half-mast. Well, he was about to remedy that.

Uncomfortably aware of the pressure directed at his groin, Alex maneuvered to position his mouth close to the thickening cock and let warm puffs of his breath ghost over the flushed, pulsating length. He was rewarded with a small sigh from above him. Krycek knew that he’d always affected Feilong more than the crime lord was willing to let on, the stubborn bastard. But Alex managed to shield his small smile of triumph from Feilong’s wrath by lowering his head even more until his lips touched the smooth, reddened cockhead. This close, the smell of Feilong flooded his nostrils – a heady, musky scent that made his head spin.

Lips parting, he lapped tentatively at the head, swiping his tongue over the slit and catching the few drops of pre-come that leaked from the opening. So familiar and tantalizing, the taste of him, yet still a reminder that he was here for Feilong’s pleasure only.

Shrugging off the flitter of discontent that passed through his mind at the last thought, he reached forward, took in the now fully-stiffened shaft, and closed his lips around the hard cock, entrapped it in the hot, silken cocoon of his mouth.

Feilong bucked, ever so slightly, one hand going out to alight on the back of Alex’s head, fingers threading through the dark hair – a firm touch, not hurting, not yet.

Alex worked his mouth around the cock, sliding it in and out while humming lightly at the back of his throat. He chanced a glance upward in order to gauge Feilong’s reaction. Eyes half-lidded and chest rising and falling with each deep breath, Feilong had his head thrown against the headboard, long hair fanned out around him in abandoned fashion. God, he was glorious to look at.

Alex’s own eyes drifted shut as he opened his mouth wider and let the cock slide in all the way to the back of his throat. Breathing through his nose, he expertly deep-throated it, his throat muscles constricting tightly around the rigid member. A breathy moan from somewhere above him let him know that Feilong was close.

The hand tangled in his hair suddenly tightened and tugged insistently so Alex pulled back to look at its owner, lips glistening with saliva and pre-come.

Feilong was looking at him with lust-glazed eyes that never lost their soulful intensity, and Krycek could read in them the clear intent and desire of a hunter who had trapped his prey in a deadly grasp. They were both panting hard.

Feilong jerked his head in a quick ‘come here’ motion so Alex got to his feet, his knees aching from the change in position. But before he could take a step toward the bed, Feilong had grabbed his arm and given it a hard yank, one leg hooked strategically beneath his.

Unbalanced, Krycek tumbled onto the bed, with Feilong rolling on top of him, heated skin plastered to the length of him and the weight of his body trapping Krycek underneath. Delicious friction sped like lightning along the areas of contact as their trapped cocks ground against each other, their hips rocking back and forth.

_This. This was…_ Alex’s thoughts fled as Feilong descended upon him once more, licking, biting, sucking, a malevolent storm of passion with all the ferocity of the dragon behind it.

A strangled cry was ripped from him when Feilong sank his teeth hard into Alex’s shoulder. He jerked, tried to pull away, but was held fast by Feilong’s strong hands pinning his wrists to the bed above his head. A small rivulet of blood trickled from the stinging bite mark, the sharp, throbbing pain a remainder that he was Feilong’s to claim.

Roving hands traversed the length of his body, teased and pinched, made Alex writhe in agonizing pleasure. One slid between his legs and pushed them further apart, spreading him, exposing him fully to Feilong’s hungry eyes.

The Baishe leader drank in his fill of the feast laid out before him, before he tore his gaze away and turned to the side for a moment to rummage around a side drawer, leaving Alex gasping and trying to catch his breath, but then Feilong was back, his fingers slicked with lube, and Alex could only watch as the hand dipped out of sight between his legs. Feilong leaned forward to kiss him aggressively on the lips, wet tip of tongue probing and demanding entrance.

The first light touch on his puckered entrance made him jump. Feilong slid one finger in, slowly breaching the tight ring of muscle. Alex’s breath caught in his throat and he froze mid-kiss, but Feilong was unexpectedly gentle, waiting until he’d adjusted to the invading digit before continuing.

Alex threw his head back when a second finger slid past to align with the first, and then the two were gently twisting inside him, scissoring, opening him up. He trembled with the effort to hold still, anxious eyes searching Feilong’s face for any sign that the act might suddenly turn violent – it had happened before, never with the Baishe leader, but the possibility always remained.

Another push, a brief inconsequential surge of pain, and then all three fingers were in. He could breathe again. He hadn’t realized that Feilong had broken off the kiss until the soft lips were once again pressed unrelentingly to his.

The kiss deepened just as Feilong withdrew his fingers and Alex whimpered involuntarily at the sudden change. In one fluid motion, Feilong had positioned himself at the entrance, his cock taking the place that the fingers had just vacated. Alex stared up at him, green eyes wide open and helplessly fixated to his.

A muffled cry was wrung from Krycek as Feilong suddenly thrust forward in one hard stroke, burying himself to the hilt inside that hot, taut pocket of warmth. Krycek gasped at the sensation of being so completely filled and stretched, could only concentrate on trying to relax and pushing past the fog of pain and ecstasy that clouded his mind. And then Feilong’s hand closed mercilessly around his hard cock, tightening around the base for a fraction before he started to pump, and Alex was again sucked back under a wave of overwhelming sensations.

Feilong pulled back only to thrust forward a second later, and started to move in a hard and furious rhythm, unerringly jabbing for Alex’s prostate every time.

With his cock begging for release, Alex arched into his tormentor’s touch, no longer able to keep back little incoherent noises of pleading that escaped his lips…

_HarderfastermorePLEASE_.

As if reading his mind, Feilong’s hand tightened around his cock, gave it a fierce jerk, and for a fraction of a second everything stood still – he could see in sharp relief the beads of sweat dotting Feilong’s forehead seemingly suspended in time – and then Alex was coming so hard his vision swam black before his eyes as his warm seed spilled over into Feilong’s hand.

Moments later, Feilong followed, ejaculating his release into Alex in a hot gush before collapsing on top of Alex’s prone form.

For a long time they stayed like that, sweat-slickened skin plastered to each other, until Alex started to squirm from a shortage of air and from the itchy feel of drying cum on his chest. Despite the assassin’s overt display of distress, Feilong did not budge for a while longer, though once Alex ceased struggling he finally rolled off of him to lie on his back, an arm flung over his eyes.

Sighing, Alex rested a moment longer, then pushed himself up and out of the bed to shuffle slowly towards the spacious well-decorated bathroom. Returning with a damp towel, he proceeded to clean them both up.

After wiping away the last lingering trace of their earlier tryst, he stared at the slow rise and fall of Feilong’s finely-sculpted chest, the washcloth in his hand forgotten for a moment as his vision blurred with something close to tears.

Unbidden, his hand curled into a fist around the towel as his eyes suddenly flared briefly with some indefinable emotion. Somewhere in there was anger, unvoiced anger at Feilong for making him feel this way, filled at once with the unexplainable need to be close to the man and bitter self-revulsion that he would feel that way at all. His lips tightening he let the washcloth drop out of his hand and turned away from the figure sprawled on the rumpled sheets. He had to get out of here, the longer he stayed around this man the more unbalanced his world became.

A hand reached out and closed around his wrist, tugging gently.

“Stay.” Feilong intoned quietly. It wasn’t a request, but it wasn’t a command either.

Alex shuddered at the touch. He knew what Feilong was offering, and what he would be giving up in exchange for it. He could walk out right now. Walk away and never look back, consequences be damned.

But the touch on his hand remained gentle, and Alex was suddenly seized with the painful remembrance of the bleak, exhausting loneliness of life on the run before he’d fallen in with Feilong.

With a small, defeated sigh he succumbed to the tempting illusion of offered comfort, let Feilong pull him back into bed so that he was lying curled up on his side with his back facing the mafia prince.

Alex tensed but did not move away when Feilong draped an arm over his torso and slid over so that he was pressed closely against Krycek’s very still back.

With anyone else it would have been called spooning, but this was Feilong, so no such assumptions can be made.

Moments later, when Feilong made no further move, Alex finally unwound enough to relax and let the tension seep from his exhausted body.

Sometimes, he did not understand the Baishe leader at all. Feilong’s nature changed so very quickly - a personality like mercury, as fluid and volatile as quicksilver.

Alex lay in the quiet circle of those arms, listening to Feilong’s deep breaths. Only tonight. Tonight he would seek refuge in those arms and try to forget the aching memories of another time and place, another body.

Hazel eyes flashed suddenly into his mind and Krycek bit back the reflexive gasp of pain that threatened to rip through him.

Instead, he turned and burrowed deeper against the warm body besides him, burying his head into the strong shoulders and willing himself to let go of the past.

Beside him, he suspected that Feilong had his own demons to fight. They were lost souls, both of them, trying to forget pasts that they had no control over.

They fell asleep like that, curled up in each other’s warmth and lulled by the presence of a companion through the night.

When the first light began filtering through the window signaling the breaking of dawn, Alex quietly disentangled himself from the sheets and drew himself away from the circle of warmth behind him. He dressed quickly in the semi darkness of the room, conscious of the penetrating eyes that were now awake and fixated on him in a slitted gaze.

Having thrown on his last item of clothing, Krycek could at least pretend that his armor was back in place, never mind that Feilong had chipped away at it in so many places that he was sure it would crumble to dust if so much as jostled.

But then he was at the door, with no more time left to wish for things that he couldn’t have and all he could do was cast one last look back at Feilong who had sat up against the headboard.

Small twitch of supple lips, the merest hint of a smile. “Until next time, then.” Feilong had effortlessly slid his mask back in place, the haughty look of indifference once again gracing his features, though his eyes spoke differently.

A barely perceivable nod and the swish of his jacket as it brushed against the door on the way out was all Krycek would allow him in way of a reply before the door closed in his wake with a soft click.

Outside the rain was pouring down in torrents and Krycek pulled the lapels of his jacket higher up, not that it made much of a difference. Huddling into the leather, he ignored the rivulets of water trickling through his hair and down his face, ignored the wind that whipped the icy rain about him as he made his way back to his apartment because the small spark of fire that had kindled within him refused to be quenched by the weather.


End file.
